


Cheese Eaters - Chapter 4

by leofire608



Series: Cheese Eaters - A Fantomex/Batroc fiction [4]
Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M, Rated Mature because as a whole this series will be, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leofire608/pseuds/leofire608
Summary: Fantomex finally learns what happens when you piss off the wrong people...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: non-sexual strangulation (briefly)

# Cheese Eaters,

# 

Chapter 4:

# Revenge, Served Cold

# Fantomex X Batroc

…

_Dec. 19, 2015_

_8: 46 AM_

_Paris, France_

…

Georges Batroc sat in a cell, alone. He had made his phone call, painful as it had been, and was merely biding his time. He imagined meeting that thief again…  
Imagined skin parting. Bones crunching. Begging and pleading for mercy, probably.  
He chuckled to himself in that lonely cell, and then footsteps brought him right back to attention. In only a moment his associates were there, standing in front of the cell. The three of them gazed on him for a long moment…Batroc was glad he had his pants all the way up.  
“Well?” He spoke first, as usual. “Do you have what I asked for?”  
Jacinda nodded curtly, drawing a credit card from inside her jacket. “The expense card.”  
Fred snickered slightly, leaning back on his heels. “You miss us in there, boss?”  
Batroc suppressed an indignant response; he knew humour was how Fred handled troublesome situations. “As much as I missed comfortable seating, my friend.”  
Then Piet stepped forward. He leaned forward on the bars of the cell, and looked Batroc up and down. “Boss…” he said in a low voice, “who did this?” He punctuated the last word with a wave in Batroc’s direction.  
Batroc stood up then, no easy task with his hands cuffed behind his back, and stepped forward. “A thief. He called himself Fantomex.”  
“Fantomex, eh?” Fred stared straight down for a couple of seconds. “Not ringing a bell, boss, so probably an up-and-coming guy. But I’ll make some calls.”  
“As will I,” Jacinda added. “And then, Batroc?”  
Batroc looked Fred straight in the eye, then Piet and Jacinda in turn.  
“Then he learns why one **never** crosses Batroc and the Brigade.”

…

_Jan. 1, 2015_

_7: 37 PM_

_Marseilles, France_

…

It was a quiet night in the city, except for one particular luxury apartment suite.  
Only 3 floors below the roof, that suite’s owners were putting on a party. At least 50 guests were in attendance, plus the bartender, a six-member classical band, and various waiters and other personnel. Said band was putting on a rousing performance, getting guests to move and dance.  
One floor up, Fantomex turned up the volume on his TV set several points higher, trying to drown out the ruckus from below. It wasn’t helping. He was prepared to send a strongly worded missive to building management, for the noise was disrupting his attempts to rest before he went to work in London the next day.  
Which wasn’t entirely true; he could simply ask E.V.A. to deaden his ears in order for him to rest. But it was the principle of the thing.  
“E.V.A., send off an email to the building manager, please.”  
[[About the noise?]]  
“No, the pigeon crap…Of course the noise!”  
[[At once, Fantomex.]]  
“And you drew me a bath?  
[[Yes. It will maintain optimum temperature for another minute and 31 seconds.]]  
“How convenient, the end is in sight…”  
His TV program was riveting; an action-drama centred around a young woman with the power of flight, who used this gift and her martial arts skills, along with an array of friends of varying talents, to tackle crime in her small coastal city. The episode was about to end, with the heroine’s boyfriend being trapped in a small room with an explosive device that was counting down…  
 **4** …Fantomex was on the edge of his seat. He knew the heroine was flying to him as fast as she could, but would she be fast enough?  
 **3** …He shrunk back now, uncertain how this would turn out.  
 **2** …He steeled himself for something terrible.  
And then he heard something: a high, keening noise that had to be outside. It stretched at the limits of his hearing, and then E.V.A. spoke in his mind.  
[[It sounds like a small rocket engine. Like a missile, for instance.]]  
He rolled, straight off the couch and dragged a large pillow with him, using it to cover himself. He noticed that he was not hearing the TV anymore; E.V.A. must have deafened him. And then, he felt an impact that made his bones shake. He stayed in his position for several seconds, and then tossed the pillow aside.  
A hole about two feet in diameter yawned open in the exterior wall; he noted that it was only about three feet from where he had been laying. Close, but not close enough. Plaster had flown from the site of impact and smashed into the opposite wall, some chunks had made their own holes; his TV was ruined, broken in half and knocked to the floor. As E.V.A. let his ears reactivate, he noticed that the music from downstairs had stopped.  
 _Finally_ , he thought, before snapping into action.  
He pulled his mask from under his shirt and yanked it on, then activated the lenses. Being as he was located along the eastern wall of the ring-like apartment, he headed south towards the dining room, where he knew he kept some weapons. It suddenly occurred to him that that was a strange practice, keeping weapons in the same place that he would serve himself food. But Fantomex pushed the thought from his head, continuing on.  
In only seconds he was in the dining room, standing before a large portrait of some pre-Revolutionary aristocrat, behind which he had concealed a safe that served as his weapons locker. He didn’t have time for delicacy; he simply dragged the painting off the wall ( _Tacky thing anyway_ ), and then punched in the 5-digit code on the electronic keypad.  
0 – 7 – 3 – 2 – 6.  
With a soft ring, the safe door swung open. He retrieved a pair of pistols, his usual set, two clips of ammunition that he then loaded into them, and two more clips to spare which he slipped into the waistband of his pants. _I’m awfully poorly dressed, only a sleeping shirt and pants…I suppose it’ll have to do. I’m already used to operating without much armour as it is._  
 _How am I going to get out of this place? I can’t go back to the living room; the explosives person will have another clear shot…assuming there’s only one._  
“E.V.A.! Conduct perimeter reconnaissance.”  
[[One moment, just let me out…]]  
Fantomex felt it, that sensation like his blood had turned to jelly, before a lump dropped into his stomach. He prepared to heave, but instead felt like his chest had ignited from within. He yanked up his shirt to look at himself, and was surprised to see droplets on silver beading on and dripping from his pectorals.  
[[Still uncomfortable. Further modification to this protocol will be needed.]] Her voice was almost clinical, precise but tinged with a touch of concern.  
“Assuming we make it through this, that is.”  
[[Assuming,]] E.V.A. responded coolly.  
The droplets began to flow together, while the quantity of them that issued from Fantomex’s chest increased until it was like a tap. The pain continued to increase; the nanites were probably scraping nerve endings on their way out of his body. But the feeling lasted only a few seconds more, and then Fantomex watched as a basketball-sized silver ball took shape on the floor. The ball then sprouted a pair of rings that surrounded its centre and began counter-rotating, lifting it into the air until it was eye-level. The ball floated across the room to the window and then sprouted small articulated limbs to open it.  
[[I will report my findings as need dictates.]]  
“Please do. We need to know what we’re up against if we’re to have a chance at getting out of this.”  
E.V.A.’s reconnaissance circuit took less than one minute, Fantomex counting the seconds, until he heard her reply.  
[[The south side is clear. I attempted to continue along the eastern side, but was apparently spotted. Regrouping with you…now.]] Then her silvery ball body sped back in through the window, with Fantomex noticing the same keening noise as before in her wake. Prepared this time, he simply rushed for the other end of the dining room, E.V.A. landing on his shoulders as he barrelled through the door to the kitchen to see a most unusual sight.  
A man.  
A big man, inches taller than Fantomex himself, and probably the broadest shoulders he had ever seen. He wore a green jumpsuit, with purple plating on the forearms and shins, and a brighter green section on the chest. His head was covered by a dark purple hood, and a cape of the same colour trailed off over his shoulders. He looked down at the ground, so Fantomex couldn’t see his face.  
Fantomex spoke first. “Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?”  
The man looked up, showing a frown. His fists clenched, and then he dropped into a fighting crouch. “You will be hurt, little man. **How** …is up to you.”  
Fantomex paused for a moment. “Right…about that…”  
And then he snapped his two pistols out and fired two shots, dead at the man’s chest. But the man sidestepped, very nimbly for his size, and then rushed on towards him. Fantomex had no time for more shots; he simply crouched and jumped straight up, letting his opponent bull-rush right where he had been. But then he felt a pressure around his left ankle; the big man had stopped short, pivoted his waist in a decidedly uncomfortable-looking way, and grabbed him. There was no time for action; the big man simply turned his waist again and slammed Fantomex into the floor - **hard**.  
E.V.A. went flying and Fantomex cried out, feeling breath leave his lungs and several things crack. He recovered in time to roll left; then his opponent’s foot stomped down where his head had been. Fantomex caught a glimpse of the ceiling, and an idea snapped into his mind. Before he could act on it, though, he heard the man spit, and felt liquid on his face.  
“There, little man. Once that’s in your eyes…you’re **blind**.”  
“Hence why I wear goggles, idiot,” Fantomex replied, before aiming with his left hand and firing off three shots.  
The big man looked upwards, over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”  
“Misdirecting, you **oaf** ,” Fantomex replied, punctuating his last word with a shot into his opponent’s left shin.  
The man roared as the shot slammed through his leg, leaving a mangled mess of blood and bones in its wake. He fell to his right knee, clutching his wound and staring venom at Fantomex. _Good_ , the thief thought, _he’s down._  
And now Fantomex stood, pointed his left pistol at the man and the right one upwards. He fired the right pistol three times into the ceiling, a tight cluster that nicely severed the cord that held aloft a crystalline chandelier. A heavy one, at that.  
It slammed down onto the man, and he crumpled under the impact. The chandelier shattered, strewing shards all around, and Fantomex took a step back. Two seconds passed, and the man did not rise. _And out._  
With that, Fantomex moved on, making his way to the door that opened to the west wing of the apartment. E.V.A. alighted on his shoulder once again, keeping sensors aligned on the now-unconscious man. He had both pistols in hand; as he came to the door, he realized that it would be prudent to keep both weapons. _E.V.A., please open the door._  
[[At once, Fantomex.]] She hopped off his shoulder and floated over to the door, then used a limb to pull the handle. Angling her frame and pulling the handle, she swung the door open. Fantomex was through in an instant, sweeping the room with pistols drawn and ready. No one was there, he thought, before a weight dropped down around his shoulders.  
[[Attacker!]]  
Fantomex swung his arms up, aiming to dislodge his new assailant. But they held on tightly, clenching toned thighs around his neck, so Fantomex simply rolled forward; as he thought, the attacker loosened their grip to avoid hitting the floor with him. But Fantomex snapped both arms before him, caught himself, and then pushed up and flipped as he rose so that he now faced his attacker.  
They were standing now as well, crouched and holding arms out wide, clutching two wicked looking knives. Armour covered their body; it was deep red on the torso and upper arms, with dark blue gauntlets and boots. It was topped with a black helmet, with a dark shiny visor concealing the eyes. The figure stepped back, then drew their left arm backwards before hurling the blade in that hand towards Fantomex. They cried out as they did so; _a woman’s voice_ , Fantomex noted. He dodged the attack, letting the knife sail past him, and fired off a shot in response; the figure dodged, but the bullet still glanced off her armoured shoulder with a resounding *PING*. Fantomex faltered a moment, and the woman drew back her right arm and loosed her next blade towards him. Fantomex rolled under it and then snapped back up to his full height right in front of the woman. She tried to step back, but he stood on her left foot to hold her in place, then let loose a left hook with all his strength. It caught the woman right in the mouth, and Fantomex followed up with a right uppercut that caught her right in the chin. He heard teeth crack on that one; _good, she deserves nothing less and much, much worse. They both do._  
The woman reeled, fell back, and landed square on her butt. She managed to catch herself, but before she could rise, Fantomex was on her again, lashing out with a sharp kick to her chest that had her on her back. Then he pinned her with a foot to the sternum. E.V.A., having been lurking on the ceiling, alighted on his left shoulder.  
“Who are you people, and why are you here? Trying to hurt me when I’ve done nothing to you...I haven’t done anything to them, right, E.V.A.?”  
[[I have no memory of them in my databanks, no.]]  
The woman looked to the left and spit blood on the floor, before turning back to Fantomex. “You should be more careful about who you piss off, Fantomex,” and she said his name like a curse.  
“Noted,” he replied. “So who is it that managed what so many have not? To track me and attack me in my place of safety…”  
“Who do you think?”  
And then Fantomex realized that she had greeted him by name. He had always been reluctant to share his name…it was no real identifier, but he knew that keeping one’s identity secret was invaluable in his line of work.  
 _The last person he had said it to…_  
 _… You are in luck, actually; he usually acts with reinforcements, but they are not present…_  
“Oh no,” Fantomex said softly.  
“Oh, yes,” the woman said sharply, and then she flexed her ankles to trigger the spring-loaded blades on the sole of each foot to extend. She jack-knifed her legs upwards, catching Fantomex right in the buttocks.  
He cried out, arching his back and falling forward, E.V.A. sent flying once more, before the woman reached up and pushed him to her left. He landed square on his back, and tried to rise but found that his legs were simply too weak. The woman stood, flexing her neck as she looked at him.  
[[She’s dosed you with a muscle relaxant. I’m trying my best to process it out, but you’ll just have to do your best without legs until then.]]  
 _Perfect,_  
Fantomex thought, and then he propped himself up with his left arm. As the woman stepped forward, he drew with his right hand and fired in a wide arc towards her; the woman stopped and covered her face with her left forearm. What bullets hit her simply glanced off; _that’s damn good armour she has._  
Once the rain of bullets stopped, the woman advanced. As she did so, her gauntlets opened slightly, and long blades extended from each.  
“You will suffer, you know. I’ll make sure that you do.”  
Now she was straddling him, placing the blade points to his chest.  
“Lungs will be the **first** to go…”  
And then Fantomex extended his arms, putting one pistol to each side of her head, but pointing to the wall behind her.  
“Actually,” he replied, “ **ears** will be.”  
And then he fired.  
The woman screamed, arched her back and slapped her hands to her ears. Fantomex curled forward, drew both arms back over his head, and then slammed both pistols stock-first straight between her eyes. The woman slumped back, then Fantomex pushed her off of his legs.  
“E.V.A., how goes my detox?”  
She had been clambering about on the ceiling, and she looked down at him. Faceless, but somehow he could still tell she was amused. [[Completed 4 seconds ago. The toxin had a surprisingly simple chemical structure-]]  
“Tell me about it later, please,” Fantomex cut her off. He rose, testing his leg strength and finding his faculties restored. He looked back at the woman, then paused a moment. “Right. We need to get to the roof, where we can-”  
Fantomex’s muttering was cut off by something slamming him in the back. His ribs were still sensitive from his previous brawls: he cried out and fell forward. He barely managed to catch himself, turning to look in the direction of the attack.  
All he saw was the room. Only him and the woman, unconscious and in exactly the same position as a second before.  
 _E.V.A., activate-_ Now it was his face being struck, right in the forehead, and Fantomex lost his train of thought. He blacked out for a moment, waking up on his back.  
“What…?”  
“Not what…” said a voice in reply, “ **who.** ”  
And as Fantomex recognized the voice, Georges Batroc suddenly filled his vision, standing over him. Not stepping into view; he was simply there, where he had not been an instant before. His outfit was just like before, save for the addition of white bands on his wrists and ankles, and a white plate of armour under his vest.  
“So… you want to pick up where we left off?” Fantomex’s clumsy flirtation was intended just to give him a second to think.  
Batroc grimaced, then responded. “Yes, especially the part where I was kicking your thieving ass!”  
“I seem to recall having the upper hand, myself…” And then Fantomex drew his right-hand pistol and fired three shots dead into Batroc’s chest.  
Batroc didn’t even flinch, for the bullets passed straight through his chest and put holes in the ceiling above.  
“Oh **shit** …”  
“Indeed. Now…” Batroc lifted his left foot, aiming to stomp Fantomex’s head to a pulp. But E.V.A. dropped down then, tiny limbs clawing at Batroc’s nose and mouth. He simply grasped a hold of her and pitched her at the nearest wall; she half-splattered on impact, disks crumbling like paper, limbs twitching like a squashed spider, then simply melting and falling to the floor.  
But her ploy had worked. Fantomex managed to draw his left-hand pistol, and managed to fire once – twice – as he pushed himself to his feet with his right hand. Batroc did not advance; apparently his idea had been correct. _The untouchable cannot touch another…_  
“What’s – the – matter?” Fantomex punctuated each pause with another shot, then his clip finished. He drew his other pistol, but in the time it took to aim…  
Batroc was gone again.  
“E.V.A., sweep my blood for hallucinogens.”  
[[You are most definitely not hallucinating, I’m logging your injuries and trying to repair them. I have no thoughts on Batroc’s…new abilities.]]  
“Great…”  
And then his wrist was struck, and Fantomex dropped the pistol. Then a blow to his left shin sent him staggering back. Then his right temple was hit, and Fantomex raised that arm…And felt a smashing kick in the ribs on that side an instant later.  
In only a second, he was reduced from hurting but threatening to merely cringing on the floor.  
[[I’m going to advise that you stop getting beaten. I can barely keep up repair work at this rate, …]]  
Batroc materialized before him, looking down with a smug smirk. He began to pace, circling Fantomex.  
“Well, well. And you put up **such** a good fight before…”  
“How…” Fantomex rasped out, feeling ribs poking his innards as he did so.  
“The powers, you mean? I bought them. Or rather, rented them…You see, I have an acquaintance, a **thief** just like you…He calls himself **the Ghost.** ”  
Now Batroc crouched, grabbed Fantomex by the back of the head, and pulled his head until he could look into his victim’s eyes.  
“His powers come from a suit. I asked him to let me borrow it…he gave me a copy instead. Good enough for me, and well worth the expense…to see you humbled. Broken. And humiliated.”  
“You…can’t…”  
“I’ve been recording this match by camera,” Batroc replied, tapping his chest to show a small black dot on his chest armour. “So I can show everyone…that I am not to be trifled with. By **anyone.** ” The sheer anger in his tone as he said the last word made Fantomex flinch.  
“You…made mistake…”  
“Oh, really? Do tell, oh cringing thief,” Batroc replied sardonically.  
“Left…my arms…functional.”  
And then Fantomex lashed out, smacking Batroc right in the head with all the force he could muster. Batroc teetered backwards on his heels, and Fantomex pushed himself up onto his left arm. He thrust out with his right hand, pushing Batroc all the way over. Before Batroc could rise, he was standing and drew a pistol, pointing it with his left hand at Batroc.  
“Don’t move…,” he gasped, “don’t disappear…Just stay-”  
But Batroc rose and rushed forward, and Fantomex fired. As before, the bullets passed through him, and Batroc was inside his reach in an instant. As Fantomex felt those strong arms close around his lower torso, he managed to get off one shot that glanced Batroc’s left buttock.  
Batroc yelled, and his grip loosened-just enough for Fantomex to take him by the shoulders and push, dislodging him and sending him falling to the left. As Fantomex drew again and lined up for a shot, Batroc hit the ground, and Fantomex capitalized by shooting him square in the back.  
The bullet pinged off his armour – **Shit!** – and Batroc continued to roll, stopping by catching himself with his left arm. As Fantomex let off another shot, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something.  
A grenade, Fantomex realized almost belatedly. He was frozen by the sight; _Batroc is a unique brand of mad if this is his-_  
[[MOVE, YOU IMBECILE, MOVE!]]  
And then rational thought kicked in again. Fantomex turned tail and ran, straight out of the room and into the north wing of his apartment. He made for the stairs along the north wall; _once we’re on the roof, we’re safe…E.V.A. can get us both out._  
[[Assuming the explosion doesn’t kill us first…]]  
And as he rushed up the stairs, he caught a glance out the window in the stairwell as he turned left to continue to the second floor of the penthouse. He could see someone standing on the rooftop across the street; it was a slightly older building, all of one story shorter than the one he occupied.  
 _Well aren’t they getting a show-_  
The stairs just before him creaked.  
And then a titanic force smashed into his chest. Fantomex was sent pitching backwards in mid-step, hard enough that both feet left the ground.  
 _Batroc AGAIN?!_  
As Fantomex landed, he caught himself expertly. He dropped into a fighting crouch, staring up the stairs.  
 _E.V.A., put me on cognitive maximums, please._  
[[Why? You are still injured, wasting energy is not advisa-]]  
 _I said, cognitive maximums. Now._  
Batroc appeared again, staring back at him.  
“The grenade…a trick, then?”  
“Indeed, used only to force you to run. Now I know your escape route…and I think I’ll cut it off.” Batroc put one hand to his temple, “Boomerang, now.”  
He was communicating with someone, Fantomex realized, probably the one who had launched the missile attack.  
Fantomex looked to his right, out the window. The person across the street moved, and Fantomex squinted, activating the zoom function in his goggles. He watched them pick an object off of their outfit, wind an arm back, then hurl it towards him.  
It looked almost like a blade, but Fantomex remembered the name Batroc had said.  
“Boomerang…?”  
“Indeed, he’s quite the expert. Wonder which kind he’s decided on…”  
“Kind…?” Fantomex was still looking at the silvery weapon as it hurtled to him. Fantomex turned and began to sprint, all three brains having decided that facing an unknown threat was not advisable. As he turned the corner and continued back eastward, the boomerang hit the window frame.  
Fantomex felt searing heat from behind him, noticing that E.V.A. had deafened him again, but he continued to run. In an instant, he was at the doorway looking into his entertainment room. He drew both pistols, pointing one leftwards into the room and the other before him into the hall he had just come down. Billowing smoke filled the staircase; _I can’t even tell if it’s intact…Batroc is certainly cunning. Annoyingly so. And persistent._  
And then he heard a gunshot above him. He jumped left, then heard the ceiling splinter as the bullet passed downward, then a metallic sound as it hit a water pipe in the floor below.  
Fantomex was just inside the room now, looking out into the hallway. He held his left pistol out, keeping his right one holstered but ready to be drawn. _Any moment now…_  
He was ready for an attack, but Batroc knew he would be.  
Fantomex heard a small sound behind him, and whirled as fast as he could, which was fast indeed. And Batroc was there, standing in the centre of the room.  
“I tire of you living so long. It ruins the effect of this whole thing, don’t you think?”  
“You’ve punished me quite enough for one evening, Batroc. And you know what?”  
Then Fantomex was hurtling forward, crossing the room in two steps, until Batroc was in his grasp. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could catch the mercenary off guard. Get a grip on him, cripple him before he could get away.  
The first thing he grasped was Batroc’s moustache. He felt strands of hair in his left hand’s grasp, and knew his plan had worked.  
His right hand came up, grabbing at Batroc’s throat. He pushed with that hand and pulled with the other, feeling hair grow taut – then snap.  
Batroc roared, driving both fists straight into Fantomex’s abdomen. As he drew back, Fantomex kicked his right leg straight up into his crotch.  
Batroc merely grunted at the blow; Fantomex felt like his shin had split. His cry was cut off by Batroc’s fingertips jabbing into his Adam’s apple, then Batroc took a half-step back and swept his other leg out from under him.  
Fantomex simply caught himself with his left hand, then pushed back up again, getting his legs under him to continue the attack.  
“Get…out…,” he rasped, hands reaching out for Batroc. But Batroc was too quick this time; Fantomex’s fingers grasped at empty air, and he fell forward. He caught himself with both hands, then rolled forward and snapped back to standing in an instant, then rushed back at Batroc.  
“Get…out!” Now he caught Batroc by the waist, or nearly did; once again, he fell through the mercenary to the floor. As he rolled onto his back and prepared to rise, Batroc leapt up, then came back down with both feet on either side of his chest.  
 _Damn…if he had hit me, I could have gotten him!_  
But Batroc simply drove one crushing punch into the centre of Fantomex’s chest, and Fantomex felt something crack.  
[[Fantomex, I told you to stop! You can’t win this, you’ll only die-]]  
“Shut up, E.V.A. I have this, even-” Fantomex coughed, and felt something sharp inside him. _Did...what did he break?_  
[[Your sternum! It’s pressing into your stomach…move too much and it will puncture. Even I can’t help you then…not in the shape you’re in.]]  
 _Can I raise an arm?_  
[[Why would you want to? A surrender?]]  
 _There’s a thought…But I have a better one. Watch this._  
“You…really think you…have me, don’t…you, Mr. the Leaper?”  
Batroc gritted his teeth, drawing his pistol. But Fantomex drew his right one in the same instant.  
“Mexican standoff? Won’t work, thief…”  
“Not in…the conventional way, no…But bear with me.”  
“You’re not even aiming for me-”  
“No, I’m not.”  
And then Fantomex let off four shots, the rest of the clip, into the ceiling. Batroc looked up, flinching as a small spurt of water came forth and landed on his face.  
“You see, I had…such plans, this even…ing…I was going to…watch my show…then go have a **bath.** ”  
Batroc squinted, then responded. “What is your ploy, thief? Kill for time while your bones knit?”  
Fantomex tried to chuckle, but launched into a coughing fit instead.  
The water continued to drip from the ceiling…and then a thunderous crack filled the room.  
An instant later, a torrent came forth onto Batroc. He stood, frozen as it fell…and fell.  
“That’s 80 gallons of water, by the way. Always found that tub a bit extravagant…”  
“And? It won’t harm me in the least. You’ve accomplished nothing, you little fool…”  
And Batroc stormed forward, as Fantomex pulled himself backwards to the wall. But Batroc was on him, straddling him and holding him to the floor.  
“You simpering little vermin…I’ll kill you with my own hands!” Batroc punctuated this by grasping Fantomex’s throat.  
[[Wouldn’t have pegged him for a strangler…]]  
As Fantomex felt his attacker’s grip tighten, his right hand grasped at the upper edge of Batroc’s chest plate. He brought his left hand up to his mouth, bit deeply into the last joint of his index finger…Batroc was so seething he didn’t even notice. Or care.  
Fantomex barely had the strength to extend his left hand towards the wall…placing it right next to an electrical outlet.  
[[Well aren’t you clever! 0.14 seconds, please…]]  
And then the nanites in his dripping blood began to assemble into a rod, almost invisible, extending out towards the outlet.  
Right on schedule, contact was made.  
The building’s lights dimmed and flashed, as current flowed into Fantomex’s body. E.V.A. had already prepared his body’s remaining nanites; the current simply flowed through him…and into Batroc’s chest plate.  
Batroc cried out as the current hit him, his armour sparking violently. He tried to stand, but it was too late. The armour itself was compromised now; it sent pulse after pulse of current into his own body, and he thrashed as though under a lash…and then simply dropped to the floor.  
Fantomex rose, coughing again as he did so, drawing his remaining pistol and keeping it aimed on Batroc. He heard a peculiar sound from outside; seconds later, a man appeared through the massive hole in the exterior wall, his boots spitting flame. He landed and stepped through the hole, drawing a boomerang from his waist.  
The man took a long look at Fantomex, and then at Batroc’s form laid out on the floor.  
“All this because you pantsed him…I swear…”  
The man looked at a gauntlet on his right arm. “Well somehow…he’s still alive. If barely.”  
“Let me go,” Fantomex said, twitching his pistol. “Or I’ll shoot.”  
“Do it,” the rocket-booted man said, raising his other hand that held the boomerang, “and you will die as well.”  
“But your boss-”  
“You think you’re going to come out on top, here? You think you’ll just take the man who’s beaten you silly, hostage…? Get real, Junior.”  
“Don’t insult-”  
“The alternative is me killing you,” the man said, “and I very well **could** , in your condition, and it won’t be pleasant. But hear me out.”  
He stepped forward, over to Batroc. “Police are on their way. Actually, they’re in the lobby. Be here in under a minute. So,” and now he reached down and grasped Batroc’s arm, “hear me out.”  
“What are you-”  
“Negotiating. Now stop interrupting me. I’m going to take Batroc, my allies, and we’re going to leave here. You’ll be allowed to leave as well, by whatever means you were planning on doing it before, I guess.”  
“How is this negotiation?”  
“Well, I suppose it’s really more like demanding. Whatever.” The man pulled Batroc up, supporting his unconscious body on one shoulder. “In exchange for leaving alive, you agree to never see us again. You don’t steal from us, if we’re the guards. You don’t act against us, and we’ll be just an ugly moment that you can work on forgetting. Deal?”  
Fantomex paused… “Deal. I hope you all die violently.”  
“Oh please... Just accept that you’ve lost, Fantomex,” and as the man stepped to the exterior hole, he looked back. “but not as badly as you could have. Now scram.”  
Fantomex glared at him, then lowered the gun and turned to walk away. He heard the rocket boots fire up again, then he was back in the hallway. He looked up as a silvery sphere floated over.  
[[We can leave by the hole they made in the stairwell. I suggest we-]]  
“Yes, we’ll leave with all haste. Pity…I really liked this place.”

…


End file.
